Once Upon a Floppy Hat
by Igi
Summary: Twisted tales. Second story - oneshot : Not-so-little Red Riding Hood. Standalone adventure full of suspense, magic, and unfortunate flirtations. Not to mention plot twists. Dedicated to Aria657. Reviews cherished always.
1. The Tale of the Sneaky Princess

**One: The Tale of the Sneaky Princess**

"Father, Father, tell us a story!" pleaded the little ones. Not that they were so very little any more: Verity was ten and Damascus twelve and three-quarters. They looked up at him with eyes in which he saw a hunger for adventure, a hunger which they had, of course, inherited from him (Maria was the most perfect wife in the universe, but she had not an adventurous bone in her body). Peter Markovski could never resist that look; nor could he resist telling a story; so he sat down on Verity's bed and proceeded thus:

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a prince who did not want to get married. He - "

"Daddy, why didn't he want to get married?" asked Verity, creasing her smooth, fair brow in such a way that her flaxen hair began to stick up a little.

"Well, Vera, not all women are as wonderful as your mother is. In fact, some are quite scary. So scary, indeed, that this prince seriously considered running away from home..."

"And did he?" asked Damascus. (Day by day he looked more like Maria...)

"No," said Peter. "One day he organised to have himself kidnapped...but that's another story." He cleared his throat. "This prince - "

"Father," prodded Verity, "will this prince be handsome?"

"Oh yes," said Peter, "very handsome. He has rich auburn hair with a sort of wave to it...he's tall, broad-shouldered..."

"Please tell me this isn't going to be another story about Uncle Redmond," groaned Damascus.

"If you'd only sit back and listen," said Peter half-irritably, "you'd find out!"

"Sorry Father," murmured the children.

"Now, where was I..."

* * *

Once upon a time, when gypsies roamed the lands, there was a prince who did not want to get married. He had rich auburn hair with a sort of wave to it; he was tall, broad-shouldered, with pleasant features and agreeable manners. Princesses from kingdoms far and wide (this was long before the Commons was established) wanted to be his bride (oh, that rhymes; jolly good). So in demand was he as a husband by the age of sixteen (this was the legal age of marriage back then, you see, not eighteen) that there were competitions held as to who got to stay at his castle in the school holidays. Only the Best of the Best got to stay at Starcastle Palace, and even there they were subjected to examination.

The Prime Minister, who oversaw the preliminary contests, naturally wanted the prince to marry the Richest Princess of All Princesses, so time and again the winners ended up being pecuniarily viable. Unfortunately, the Richest Princesses were usually not only visual disasters but ill-mannered, selfish and snobbish, qualities of which the Prince was less than enamoured. Luckily, the Prince came up with challenges of his own for the princesses.

First of all, he would challenge them to a game of tennis. He explained to the Prime Minister that to be Queen of Starcastle, a princess must be kinesthetically adept and well-coordinated. This first round would eliminate maybe three tenths of the competitors. Secondly, he would have them compete against him in the composition of music and poetry; if within an hour's time the princess could not come up with a better lyrical aria and a longer ballad than he, she was sent home with a chocolate hamper to console her in her misery. The second round would sweep away probably half of the contestants. And then, for the third round, he would "verse" (as the colloquial term goes) them in a game of chess. Bang. One hundred percent of the princesses gone.

Goodness. I do believe that doesn't add up at all. Well...arithmetic was never my strongest suit. Or logic, either, come to think of it.

Anyway, by the end of the third round, there were invariably no princesses left, and Prince Redmond (yes, Damascus, it is your uncle; don't roll your eyes, now, I promise you haven't heard this story before) was left to put his feet up and study his Horace in peace and tranquility.

Until, of course, the day Princess Evelyn the Veritable Beauty said "Checkmate". Perhaps Redmond had been lulled into a false sense of security; perhaps in considering himself unbeatable he had committed the fatal error of slackening his defences. Or perhaps the princess was simply better at chess than he was. Whatever the case, she won, and that single word - "Checkmate" - wiped the smile - and the daydreamy look - clean off Redmond's face.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but what did you just say?"

"Checkmate," repeated the princess, raising her eyebrows. "See? Your king is trapped, this square is covered by my rook, that square by my pawn and..."

"I'm not blind," he broke in. "I just can't believe it, that's all. Are you sure you haven't been cheating?"

"Are you sure you've been concentrating?" retorted the princess. "Your opening consisted almost solely of pawn moves; your middle game was full of unnecessary blunders; and you spent the whole end game trying to put me in check...and mostly failing..."

"Of course I haven't been concentrating," snapped Redmond, "I have more important things on my mind. I'm a master of chess. I don't have to think while playing it."

"Whatever the case," said the princess, "you're not master any longer. You lost. I won. Therefore I have the privilege of becoming your bride."

She was prettier than most princesses; quite beautiful, in fact. But this made Redmond dislike her all the more. "Hold on a minute," he said, frowning. "You've completed the Three Challenges, of course, but you still have to undertake the Ultimate Test."

"Oh? I don't recall there being an Ultimate Test in the Terms and Conditions." Her eyebrows raised once more. Deuce take the woman.

"You actually _read_ the Terms and Conditions?"

"Naturally," she said. "My father taught me to always read the fine print."

Holy smokes. "In that case you must have received an outdated version of the Terms and Conditions. There is a recent amendment of the document that states that, before wedding the Prince, the princess must complete the Three Challenges _and_ the Ultimate Test."

"And what, pray, is this Ultimate Test?"

"It's...a surprise."

"I see. Well, tell me once you've decided what it is to be." And with that, she curtseyed and left the room. Redmond was left to boil, as it were, in his own juices.

* * *

The cave was lit by the faint light of glow worms. Inside it, five masked boys were discussing in desperate voices.

"What do we do, for goodness's sake?" piped one, who seemed the youngest. "We can't let him marry the desperada."

"Desperada?"

"Like desperado...signifying desperate."

"You made that up, Tom, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"This is a terrible problem," agreed another voice, belonging to a boy called Edgar.

"If Elf were here," said Tom, "she'd help us solve it. I mean, being a woman and everything, she knows...the ways of women, what goes on inside their heads." (Elf was Redmond's sister - yes, I know you know, Damascus; Verity, it was Aunt Esmerelda's pet name.)

"Unfortunately, she's not," said Edgar, "she's staying with some friends in Bridewell. She doesn't really like them, but..."

"Lucky her," said Redmond, "I'd rather be in Bridewell than here, in this pickle."

"It should be the prince who chooses the princess, and not the other way round," said Jimmy (Prince of Emereldom, by the bye...and yes, your Uncle James.) "It's a disgrace, this new law of Starcastle that gives Redmond so little choice..."

"It's all the PM's idea, believe me," said Redmond, sighing. "Him and his get-rich-quick strategies..."

"Anyhow," said Tom, "we've established that it's a problem. As the Masked Men, we need to figure out is how to solve it."

"Some incredibly difficult test that she can have no choice but to fail," said Edgar.

"Agreed," said Redmond. "Better still, something she doesn't even know about, so that she has no way of preparing herself...scheming little wench."

"Do you suspect she's been cheating?"

"I have no doubt about it," said Redmond, prickling up. "How else could she have won the tennis, the music match, and the chess?"

"Well, she _might_ have just been better than you," suggested Tom.

"Nonsense," said Redmond. "Nobody's better than me."

"Someone really ought to teach you to take yourself less seriously, Redmond," said Edgar, shaking his head.

"I have an excellent sense of humour, thank you very much," said Redmond, puffing up like a peacock. "Now, to business. I propose a reenactment of the Princess and the Pea."

"What, you mean...?"

"Exactly. Only, of course, she won't have _that_ many mattresses...it would give the game away."

"You mean...to test her without her knowing she's being tested?"

"It worked in the fairy tale..."

"Only the fairy tale ended with a happily-ever-after."

"But of course, this is _not_ going to be a fairy tale. She is not going to know she's sleeping on top of a pea, so psychologically she will be prepared for a good night's sleep. I'll make sure to tire her out during the day. I might even put some valerian in her food...you know...the herb that makes people sleep soundly..."

"But that would be cheating," ventured Tom.

"Counter-cheating. A cheat for a cheat."

"I don't think that's wise," said Jimmy. "However badly people act towards us, we should never act badly towards them. It brings us down to their level, makes us culprits ourselves."

"Moralise all you want, Jimmy; it's either valerian or marriage to Her Cheating Highness."

"He simply can't take any risks," said Tom.

"Thank you, Tom," said Redmond.

"I don't know," said Jimmy. "So far you have been an honourable man of integrity. But if you start breaking the rules...you're on the best road to damning yourself."

"Lighten up, Jim," yawned Redmond. "Anyway, it's _my _life, _my _future we're talking about here. If you don't like it, then you can please yourself and leave..."

"I think I will," said Jimmy. "Such lack of consideration towards others, even if we don't like them, is...I can't help it, it's not right."

"I thought you were_ against_ me marrying the princess?"

"I am, but I still think you should find some honourable way of getting out of it, instead of becoming slippery and amoral as a fish."

"Slippery? Amoral? A fish?" Redmond sounded amused. "That sounds really fascinating. No wonder I'm so desired after as a husband."

"If you're not careful," warned Jimmy, "soon no princess will _ever _want to marry you."

Redmond merely yawned again, and settled down on the leather divan.

* * *

That evening, Redmond went into the kitchens, whistling a merry tune, and asked the head cook to give him something very simple: one small pea.

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry Your Highness," said Barbara Makepeace, tut-tutting away as she rolled out the dough for some cake or other, "but we've used up all our peas today."

"I don't understand," said Redmond, his smile falling. "How can that be? We had sackfuls of them only this morning!"

"That we did indeed," said Barbara. "But young Princess Evelyn came in here this afternoon and ordered pea soup for dinner."

"She _what_?"

"For the whole court...and special requests is special requests, see, 'specially from special visitors as she was."

"But - "

"And seeing as she will more than like be your bride soon..."

"This is _ridiculous_!" stormed Redmond. "That vixen seems bent on outwitting me! How can she have known?"

"Known what, sir?"

"Oh...never mind," muttered Redmond, stalking out of the kitchens. He would show that spoilt little rattlesnake who was master here.

* * *

The hut was small, dank and dirty, and inside it was a cauldron that bubbled and crackled and hissed and a black cat that stretched itself out like a lanky shadow. Redmond had followed the crone into this place; now he was wishing he hadn't.

"So you want my help," said the crone, throwing some parsley into the cauldron.

"Uh...yes," said Redmond, "it's a desperate situation, you see, I..."

"You don't want to marry Princess Evelyn," she said, cackling.

"How...how did you know?"

"Ah! The booksity almightity knewity everythingity!"

"Pardon?"

"It's called magic," she said, shrugging. "Spells. Books. Potions. - Knowledge."

"Oh. O...okay."

She threw what looked like a snakeskin into the cauldron; the steam rising from it immediately turned green. Redmond took a step back. "Do not be afear'd!" she exclaimed, cackling ever more loudly.

"I'm not afraid at all," said Redmond, "I'm..."

"You can save your lies, sonny, I know tha' you're afear'd. Now. Do you want to get rid of this bride of yours, or do you not?"

"Y-yes," muttered Redmond.

"Thank you." And she began murmuring some incantation or other that had a familiar Shakespearean ring about it. Then she bent down to pick something up; the next moment she was holding a phial full of green liquid.

"Empty this into the wedding cake mixture. Make sure that nobody but the bride eats it; you will be rid of her forever."

"I-I'm sorry," gasped Redmond, "but - I'm not administering _poison_!"

She cackled again. "It's not poison, m'dear," she said, "it's liquid magic. Whoever drinks it will undergo a magical transformation."

"What kind of transformation?"

"You'll see." She smiled. It made her warts seem larger. "Now. Will you take it or won't you?"

And, reluctantly, Redmond accepted the potion. What choice did he have?

* * *

The wedding was organised for the tenth of that month. Princess Evelyn was very gracious about it all; she did not even mention the Ultimate Test - or the night they had pea soup. The date edged closer and closer, and soon it was two days before the wedding. Evelyn summoned her fiance to her room.

"Dearest Redmond, how delightful of you to have come," she said.

"You called," he said brusquely.

"Yes, I did," she said sweetly. "But if I hadn't doubtless I would not have seen you at all until the day of the wedding! I felt it wise that we become better acquainted with each other before the big day."

"If you say so," said Redmond, determinedly avoiding making eye contact with her.

"Come. Tell me about yourself. What are your tastes, your interests, your pursuits? How are you feeling today? What is your favourite meal? I dare say it is not pea soup..."

"Princess," said Redmond, nostrils dilating with fury, "my tastes, interests and pursuits are, indeed, none of your business. I am feeling just rotten, because I am getting married to somebody I do not love; and I positively abhor pea soup."

"I see," she said, that catty smile on her face.

"Oh no you don't," he said. "You tricked me. You tricked me into losing, you tricked me with the peas and you tricked me with your dealings with the Prime Minister. If I marry you in two days then I'll be hanged."

"Actually," she said, "you're wrong. It is you who tried to trick me, tried to wriggle out of your word of honour by inventing an Ultimate Test that you didn't even tell me about, and now you're desperate for any means of getting out of what you promised. Very well. If you can guess my name -my _real_ name - by the hour of the wedding ceremony, I will let you go. If you cannot guess, however, you will grant me any wish I please."

"Done," said Redmond. And as he turned to go: "Rumpelstiltskin?"

The smile grew in her eyes. "You'll have to do better than that."

* * *

Redmond consulted dictionaries, Name Your Baby guides and the old Magic Mirror (TM) he found in the attic, but with no results - that is, no correct results. She was not called Midge, Marge, Belle, Bara, Therese, Tara, Xena or Zara. From A to Z, all the names he pronounced were wrong, wrong, and wronger still. He called an emergency meeting of the Masked Men, but the strangest, most out-of-the-way name they could think of was Jane ("A fine help you lot are!" stormed Redmond); he sent a letter to his sister express post, only to have it returned by the Bridewell postman with a notice saying that Esmerelda was Unable To Receive Mail At Present (those royal nitwits were blocking her from receiving correspondence!). He began to despair that he would have to marry the horrid princess after all. Unless, that is, he used the mysterious potion. But he did not know if he could trust the witch. What if it really was poison?

On the day before the wedding, he slipped the contents of the phial into the wedding cake mixture. Surely it could do no harm. If the witch was right, it could save him from this marriage. If she was wrong...he could only hope that the side-effects wouldn't be too negative.

* * *

"Introducing His Highness Prince Redmond Rupert Ricardo, Son of the Crown!" The trumpets blared and a reluctant Redmond entered the grand ballroom. Lucky the pre-wedding traditions are so important here in Starcastle, he thought: it gives me more time to think. Though I seriously believe I have tried every female name that exists...

"Introducing Her Highness Princess Evelyn Erica Eritrea, Daughter of Moonshine!" Again the trumpets blared. Evelyn, check, Erica, check, Eritrea, check. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Evie, Eloise, Etherella, Eterasa, Enid, Erta...Redmond felt as though he had swallowed that Name Your Baby guide. Felise, Fara, Featherlight, Feverta, Felicity, Fenella, Ferasa, Fiona, Fay...she was cutting the cake (another part of the Starcastle pre-wedding tradition)...he screwed his eyes shut. But his eyelids flickered, and he saw her taking the ceremonial mouthful into her fingers, holding it up above her mouth...

"Stop!" he cried. He could bear it no longer. "That cake is poisoned!"

And she dropped the piece of cake as though it were Death itself.

A murmur rose in the crowd.

"How do you know it's poisoned?" exclaimed the princess.

"Because...I poisoned it."

Another murmur, louder this time, rising and falling like a wave, rippling on the surface...

"_You _poisoned it? Do you really want me dead?"

"No...not dead...not at all!" said Redmond. "I merely wanted to stop this marriage...it's a potion...a potion I obtained from a witch, I don't know what it does but it was supposed to stop it...only I think it might be poison..."

"If you thought it might be poison, why did you put it into the cake?" asked the princess.

"Because I fooled myself into thinking it couldn't be poison...that's what I wanted to believe," said Redmond desperately. "But now I know it must be - that is, I can't risk it..."

"But why a potion? Do you mean to say you have not guessed my name?"

"Alas, no. I have tried every means possible, but to no avail. It seems I am...destined to be your husband."

She smiled. "Do you remember the pact we made? If you cannot guess, then you must allow me any wish I please."

"Of course. I assumed this would be to marry me."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head and laughing. "It was never my intention to marry you. Let me introduce myself." And there was a puff of green smoke; the crowd let out one simultaneous gasp.

Redmond's eyes leapt out of their sockets. Before him stood not a princess, but a gypsy girl.

"My name is Parsley," she said, smiling.

"Parsley?

"Parsley."

"No wonder I couldn't guess..." He paused. "How did you get past the Prime Minister?"

"Simple hypnosis. He thought I was the richest princess around." Her smile grew. "I'm actually of the Roma people passing through your country. Now let me explain. I saw it in your eyes when you were driving through the village in a coach: the pride, the vanity, the overarching self-esteem. I knew they had to be corrected.

"Of course a law that forces anyone to marry against their will is wrong, but to cheat almost every time to get out of it? I have seen it all in my crystal ball, so do not even try to deny it, Prince Redmond. You ensured the princesses had faulty tennis racquets, you wrote your music and your ballads long before any competition started, and you colluded with spectators or psychologically unsettled your chess opponents. Is this the truth or is it not?"

"It is," mumbled Redmond. "But I didn't cheat every time!"

"No - _almost_ every time. Sometimes you had to let the princesses win, because otherwise your tactics would be suspect. Am I right?"

Redmond nodded his head reluctantly. The crowd gasped once again.

"Unfortunately for you, I switched the racquets back when you played me; I also happen to be very good at on-the-spot poetising and songmaking. As for the chess, my checkmate took you completely by surprise because I used some particularly sneaky tactics.

"For cheating in this way and possibly nearly poisoning me I should by rights at _least_ turn you into a frog, but luckily for you we still have the matter of the pact. You have promised me that you will fulfill me any wish of mine if you cannot guess my name. You could not, and therefore I would like you for once not to endeavour to slip out of your responsibilities like a scaly amphibian. Will you uphold your word of honour, Prince?"

"Yes," he said, "I will."

"From now on I hope you shall always keep your promises, and become the upright, honest prince your kingdom deserves. My wish is quite simple. I wish that your kingdom shall be sanctuary to the gypsy people for ever more, even when they are persecuted everywhere else. Do you solemnly swear it?"

"I solemnly swear it."

"Now don't let me catch you breaking a promise or cheating ever again, or I shall really turn you into a frog."

"But what am I to do if some princess wins me for her husband one day? Am I to be sold off like a goat at the fair as a prize?" pleaded Redmond.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that." She smiled. "According to the law of Starcastle, if on the Prince's wedding day his bride backs out of the marriage for any reason whatsoever, he has the right to choose his bride from then on. As I am indeed 'backing out' here, you will have a free hand from now on; you will nevermore be burdened by princesses in your summer holidays."

"I don't believe it," said Redmond.

"And this all," she said, "is fair and square. You see? It _can_ be done. Now...thank you very much for the entertainment, but I must be off. Tata!" And before anyone could stop her, she had whizzed through the crowd to the nearest door and disappeared through it.

"Wait!" cried Redmond. And breaking into a run, he hurried after her.

But when he arrived at the corridor, the only thing left of the gypsy girl was an old shoe.

* * *

"Did this actually happen, Dad?" asked Damascus.

Peter's eyes sparkled. "Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. But can you think of any morals this story might have?"

"Don't cheat or try to get out of your responsibilities in any dishonourable way, as there will always be an honest solution," said Verity, sitting up straight in bed like a little queen.

"Very good," said Peter.

"Also, never trust a witch," said Damascus.

"I suppose," said Peter, "though we never did find out whether the green potion really was poison."

"Sometimes girls can be better at things than boys?" suggested Verity.

"Of course they can," laughed Peter, leaning down to tickle her. She shrieked and hid under the blankets.

"Never make promises you can't keep," said Damascus thoughtfully, "and always be upright and honest."

"Yes," said Peter.

"Father," piped Verity, emerging from under the covers, "Did Uncle Redmond ever find the gypsy girl?"

"That's another story," said Peter, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "And now to sleep, both of you, it's way past your bedtime!" The children began to groan, but he said, "Now now! I promise there'll be another story _tomorrow_ night. Now hurry up and make speed towards Dreamland!"

"Very well, Father," said Damascus, "but we expect you to keep that promise."

"And not make up any Ultimate Test or so on to try to get out of it," added Verity.

"Never fear," said Peter, "you shall have your story. Now go to sleep!"

"Good night Father," said the children.

"Sweet dreams," said Peter, blowing out the candles and closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

**A/N: What did you think? Clever or confusing, sensible or silly, brilliant or boring? Please review and tell me!**


	2. Notsolittle Red Riding Hood

**Two: Not-so-little Red Riding Hood**

The night was quiet and still. Verity didn't know how long it had been since Father had left the room, but it felt like a terribly long time. In the distance the cicadas chirruped softly and a cuckoo was guarding the moon with its song. She sighed. How she longed to be outside, in the great big world, having adventures - just like her father had once done when he was a boy. Instead she was tucked up in her bed, gazing blankly at the blindness that was Night, counting imaginary goats on an imaginary mountainside and wondering how much longer it would be until Sleep would take her into his realm. But what's this? Her ears pricked at a new sound: her brother was turning over in the bed next to hers.

"_Psst_," she hissed. "Masky, are you awake?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Can't sleep a wink," she said decidedly in her childish voice. Damascus grinned. His sister could be such a little character.

"Have you been thinking about Father's story?" he asked, knowing himself far and away more adult than she.

"Yes," she said. "If only he would tell us another, I'm sure I'd fall asleep in the blink of an eye."

"During the story, or afterwards?" he teased.

She huddled up into a ball; it was what she habitually did when she was upset. But Damascus couldn't see her in the darkness.

"I can tell you a story, if you like," he said, after a silence.

She perked up instantly. "Really?"

"It's about how the Masked Men came to be founded."

* * *

At the age of fifteen Prince Redmond had not yet had his growth spurt, so he was not _quite_ as tall_, _nor _quite_ as broad-shouldered as he would be in a year's time. He was attending his first year at the Interkingdom College for Young Men of High Birth, majoring in Princely Breeding (which was the only term his professors could come up with for his aptitude for arithmetic, history, Latin, geography, music, dancing, English and naturalism; he often joked that they should have called it The Triumph of a Scholarly Environment, a.k.a. Human Product of a Palace with a Large Library).

Anyhow, he was great friends with four other princes, whom he had known ever since he could remember. Being from neighbouring kingdoms, they often met up in the woods dressed in rags for a piece of fun. These meetings would often be frequented by Elf, Redmond's sister. They simply called themselves "the gang", and took delight in being as unprincely and undignified as possible. In fact, to make things more fun for themselves, they did not tell Elf that they were all princes, instead pretending to be peasant boys.

A-anyway. During the school year, the gang - Elf excluded, for she was over the wall at Interkingdom College for Young Ladies of High Birth - found themselves rather short of money. Jimmy wanted a new telescope, Redmond had his heart set on a new violoncello, Tom was hankering after a shiny red bicycle, and Daniel didn't have sufficient funds to buy a pearl necklace for a pretty girl he had met.

"How beautiful is its tone," said Redmond sighingly at one of their moonlit picnics. "What an instrument! But what a fortune it costs...it would almost drain our palace treasury dry..."

"Red, honestly. You think cellos are expensive?" sniffed Daniel. "You should try your hand at the jewellery market...I'm sure you'd be amazed..."

"Musical instruments and, erm...pearls...are of course priceless," said Jimmy, "but I doubt they could cost anywhere near the asking price of new technology like my telescope...these are advances in _science_, my friends - _science_!"

"Well, unlike the rest of you, the thing I want does not cost an exorbitant sum," said Tom. "Unfortunately it's still more than I can afford, and the shopkeeper swore he'd give me a hiding if he ever caught me testing out the bike again..."

"And serve you right," said Redmond severely. "It's not yours to use."

"Only because my parents are too busy with affairs of state to answer my millionth letter asking for an advance on my pocket money!" exclaimed Tom. "That bicycle and I were made for each other...we're _soulmates_...I'm sure none of _you_ would understand!"

"Really?" said Redmond. "You think the Stracciatella cello and I aren't soulmates? You should hear me play her..."

"Oh, but 'she' isn't yet yours to use!" said Tom, sticking out his tongue. Redmond moved towards him with a murderous look in his eyes, but Jimmy came between them, upholding his usual position of peacemaker.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said. "Let's not argue. The fact is, however much we want - nay, need - these things, they are not ours to have as we simply don't possess the funds."

"Then we ought to raise them!" exclaimed Tom.

"How are you planning to do that?" asked Redmond: "Put on a skirt and dance for the patrons of the local pub?"

"I'll think of something," said Tom, scowling. There was a pause. And then Jimmy said, with a new light on his face:

"I might have an idea."

"What's the idea?" said Redmond, looking half-skeptical, half-hopeful.

"Well, you know how we've always dreamt of being like Robin Hood's merry men? Robbing the rich, upholding justice, swashbuckling..."

"Go on," said Tom, jumping up and down on the picnic blanket.

"We could put an ad in the Herald. 'Young adventurers seeking employment. Will do any valiant deed, go on any quest if the reward is substantial. Enquire at this address. (Our address.)'"

"You're not serious," said Daniel, laughing.

"I am!" exclaimed Jimmy. "It would be a lark, and within a relatively short time we might raise enough to buy our prospective treasures."

"We'd need a name, though," said Tom. "Something catchy. You know..." He cleared his throat, and said, rolling his R's: "'The Intriguing Spies of Yesteryear At Your Service, Your Rich and Royal Majesties'..."

"_That's_ catchy?" said Daniel doubtfully.

"No, how about this," said Redmond: "'The Masked Men.'"

"Now that's more like it!"

"Not very long though, is it?" said Tom. "It would hardly make an impression on anybody."

"On the contrary," said Jimmy, "I think it would. Short, snappy, with a hint of mystery. How about we take it to the vote?"

Jimmy put his hand in the air, smiling. Redmond and Daniel immediately followed suit; and in the end, with a reluctant sigh, Tom joined in. And so it was that the Masked Men came into existence.

* * *

At their next meeting, Jimmy, who had put an advertisement into the paper, looked somewhat glum.

"Were there no replies?" asked Daniel.

"Told you it wasn't a good name," muttered Tom.

"Well..." said Jimmy, frowning more than ever, "...only..." - he broke into an irrepressible grin - "...four."

"Four - that's brilliant," exclaimed Redmond, "that means one for each of us! Come, let's see them!"

And Jimmy gave the sealed envelopes to Redmond, who took out a letter opener and carefully sheared them open.

He cleared his throat and proceeded to look immensely dignified.

"Regarding your advertisement in the Interkingdom Herald," he read, "we have a proposal for you. We need some stalwart lads to..." (He stopped, squinting incredulously at the page...) "..._carry out errands in our office in Emereldom_?"

"Now that's what I call an adventure," said Jimmy, grinning.

"That sounds more stale than my geometry homework," grumbled Tom.

"Why don't you try another," sighed Daniel.

Again the ceremony with the letter opener, the expression of an old university professor about to read Sophocles.

"In reply to your advertisement in the Herald, we would like to offer you a prospect...cleaning the windows of the Barrandov Town Hall." The boys groaned. "Your reward will be determined by the quality of your work."

"Well, we can forget _that_ one," said Tom, "it's even worse than the last!"

Redmond cut the third letter open.

"Dear Masked Men," he read, having cleared his throat, "in response to your advertisement, we have an exciting offer for you..."

"Go on!" said Jimmy, while the others held their breath. But Redmond merely shook his head, and threw the letter down. He fingered the last letter.

"I wonder..." he said.

"What do you wonder?"

"I wonder if we might have been better off advertising in some other paper," said Redmond, grinning.

"Pfft," said Jimmy, but he was smiling.

"Well...open it, will you," urged Daniel, "might be third time lucky."

"That's _fourth_ time lucky, Mr Arithmetic," laughed Redmond, "and I certainly doubt it'll be any better than the rest; why, each one is worse than the last!"

Jimmy, who had taken the third letter from Redmond and was skimming it with his eyes, nodded in agreement, an incredulous expression on his face.

"Let me see that," said Daniel, snatching it from him. But upon reading it, his expression became the same.

"Ehem," said Redmond, holding the last letter before him, "Attention of the Masked Men, 4 Interkingdom Road. Our kingdom is being terrorised by a fearsome wolf. Forty-three men already hath he devoured. We beg you to come at once before it is too late. Your efforts will not go unrewarded. Signed, the King of Berovia..."

They were all strangely still and silent. Meeting each others' eyes, they knew what was fixed in the mind of each one: This is it, this is what we have dreamed of. And so it was that, the very next weekend, they set off on their fine black horses to Berovia, masks on their faces, floppy hats covering their heads, and cloaks flying after them.

* * *

When they got to Berovia Castle, the seat of the local monarchy, they were greeted by a small, skinny man with emaciated features and bright blue eyes.

"You must be the Masked Men," said he, bowing deeply. "We have been expecting you. Please, put your horses away in the stables, and you shall be escorted to the main hall, where there is a feast prepared."

"Thank you," said Redmond, feigning a deep voice, "but we will not eat." The visible part of Tom's face wore a look of horror, a look that could not have been more distinct had he ridden for days on end without a decent meal. As it was - they had dined several hours ago, before setting off at dawn. "We would rather you gave us more details about our mission; that way we can get to it at once, without losing any time. You are in a crisis, I believe."

"You are very wise," said the steward, "and I thank you for it. In this case, let me give you the 'mission debriefing' immediately, to save you the trouble of dismounting."

"That is very kind of you," said Jimmy, his voice straining to be as deep as Redmond's and ending up as a strange, half-hearted sort of squawk.

"The trouble began about two months ago, when the wolf found its way into our kingdom. A woodcutter and his son were...to put it gently...ripped to death."

"My God," breathed Daniel, his lips very pale.

"Villagers began to disappear. Monks in the abbey went missing. Servants from the castle...all gone. Their poor wives waited for them, hoping that somewhere, sometime, they would turn up, alive and safe. One day we found a pile of bones in the Forest of Bardenwood, a pile larger than the tallest tree in the forest. It was then that the King proclaimed that he who destroys this ruthless beast will gain the hand of Princess Berenice, a chest full of ducats, and receive half the kingdom after he dies. Ever since that time, princes, jacks-of-all-trades, men of valour of every description have come to this country to try their luck. All dead. All gone."

"How ghastly," said Tom, his voice barely a squeak.

"We didn't actually say this before," said Jimmy, gulping, "but we are not armed."

"Fear not," said the steward, "you shall be given any weapons you wish for before you embark on your journey."

"Thank you," said Redmond, "but that will not be necessary. We shall use no weapons against the wolf."

Tom almost fell off his horse.

"Oh." The steward raised his eyebrows. "Well, be that as you please..."

"You said their wives waited for them - am I to understand that no women at all were among the victims?"

"None. The wolf seems to prefer the meat of the male of our species."

"How horrid," said Daniel; his voice was quite hoarse by this stage.

"That is basically all I can tell you," said the steward. "The wolf makes its home in the Forest of Bardenwood; it is there that most of its victims lose their lives. You know where to seek it out; if you are lucky, bring your spoils to the castle tomorrow at two o'clock. If you are not..."

"We understand," said Redmond. "Until we meet again." And he spurred on his horse, setting off at a gallop; the others tipped their hats off to the steward and followed.

"Best wishes," murmured the steward, watching them disappear into the distance.

* * *

Redmond had led them to a small town that was marked "Berren" on their maps. When he stopped and dismounted, Tom looked at him incredulously.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Tom. "Home is _that _way! We need to get a move on, so that we can reach school by curfew time!"

"We're not _going_ back to the I.C. yet," said Redmond. "We have a wolf to catch."

"Are you crazy?" exclaimed Jimmy. "We don't have so much as a slingshot to defend ourselves with!"

"How do you expect to kill the beast? With your own hands?" exclaimed Daniel.

"We won't be killing any animals," said Redmond quietly.

"Good," said Tom, sounding relieved, "then we can go home. He was joking before...I knew it."

"I'm not joking," said Redmond, "I'm dead serious. Killing the wolf would bring us down to his level of brutality. We shall instead use our wits to catch him."

"I'm sorry," said Jimmy, "I know you're a vegetarian and all Redmond, but this is going too far. This animal has slaughtered forty-two people, for God's sake, it deserves no mercy!"

"Well that's where you're wrong," said Redmond. "The wolf generally does not prey on humans unless the human impinges on his territory; once he becomes used to man in his environment - man who should I add leaves him no food of his own - he may see humans as 'the enemy' and, what with the scarcity of food..."

"You're crazy," blustered Tom, "there's no way we're going after the wolf with no weapons."

"Peculiar," continued Redmond, as if he hadn't heard, "the fact that this wolf preys only on men. Wolves usually prey only on women...we were taking it in biology class the other day..."

"Red, you're not listening. This is too dangerous: we wanted an adventure to raise ourselves some pocket money, not get ourselves killed!"

"What are you trying to say?" asked Redmond.

"What we're trying to say is that we're going home; we're not risking our necks just so that we can buy the things we want. That's too much, surely even you must agree."

"I never said anything about risking our necks," said Redmond patiently: "if we are in a group, with a self-confident, assertive manner, the wolf will not attack."

"No, Red," said Jimmy. "Your theories of safety are not enough. Even if we had weapons it would be pushing it. We need to get home in time for curfew."

"Are you trying to tell me that you're chicken?" asked Redmond. His voice was suddenly very soft.

"We're - " began Jimmy.

"Yes!" exclaimed Tom. "We're chicken!"

"We're_ not _chicken," said Jimmy slowly, casting a withering look at Tom, "we're _sensible._ We're going back to the I.C., right now, and you're coming with us."

"No, I'm not!" said Redmond. "You can all be cowards and leave, but I'm not going anywhere. If you desert me, it will only mean that I have to face the wolf alone."

"You're not serious," said Daniel.

"I'm serious," said Redmond. "Now leave. Leave, all of you!" His voice had risen to a shout; he was very different from the Redmond they knew. There was a silence. And then, with one last look at him, Jimmy shook the reins; the others followed suit, and after a strangely melancholy clatter of hooves, they were gone. Redmond was left alone in the town square, looking miserably after them and wishing to God he had not lost his temper.

* * *

The Aurelia Fashion Boutique on Berren Hill Square was a busy place. Stacks of clothes reached to the ceiling, and the young female sales assistants scurried to and fro like so many black ants. Mrs McGinty cast a shrewd eye at the customers being measured up, calculating in her mind this year's profits, the losses caused by any particular assistant's clumsiness, the company prospects. It had been her husband's business: but he had died; he was gone now. That wolf had done it, they'd said. She had been given two options: to sell, or to run the shop herself. She had risen to the challenge of the latter, and so far she had not regretted it. In fact it seemed to her that her business instincts were far superior to what her poor Arthur's had been. She was just making a mental note of what she'd say next time the sales manager came to see her when the little bell at the door rang, announcing a new customer.

A young man clothed in black, black and more black (how unstylish!) had entered the store. His cloak was black, his hat was black, his belt was black, his doublet and hose were black; his mask was, indeed, black. Mrs McGinty scrunched up her nose. Awful for him, of course, but this was a women's store. They did not cater to the male fashions.

"Good morning," he said, coming up to the counter, "I would wish to purchase a dress."

"For your wife?" asked Mrs McGinty, studying the visible part of his face.

"Something like that."

"Very well...send her in tomorrow. We have time at three forty-five in the afternoon."

"Wouldn't it be possible to have something pre-made?" he asked. "I understood you had many such garments in your store."

"Only a few thousand," she said, smiling. "Yes, we pride ourselves in our modernity. The best stores in any kingdom have many pre-made garments these days."

"Very commendable, I'm sure," said the man in the mask. "Could you perhaps show me some of your fashions?"

"Of course, sir," said Mrs McGinty, at the same time wondering where such a man could find the money to buy his wife clothes. All the same. Some of these eccentrics were rich. Best to humour him.

So she took him down the aisle and showed him her best autumn fashions; he didn't like any of them, however, and kept on asking for something plainer. Finally they arrived at a simple white cotton dress that went down below the knees, and though Mrs McGinty tried to explain that this dress was not yet finished, and hardly fashionable at all, he would have it and no other. Afterwards he made her take him to the makeup section, where he selected a dark red shade of lipstick and some glittery blue eyeshadow and blackest black mascara, and the wig section, where a curly dark brown girlish wig took his fancy, and the hosiery section, where he selected a pair of white stockings with flowers embroidered on them, and finally as they reached the counter he snatched up a fine woollen cloak, hooded, in dark red (to match the lipstick, she supposed).

"Twenty-three ducats and five silvers," she began; but he did not stop, sprinting, instead, out the door.

"I'll pay you back later!" he called.

"Stop! Thief!" she shrieked, "Thief! Stop him! The man in the mask...thief!" But by the time she had dragged the sales manager out onto the street, the man had disappeared.

That was the sales manager's last day at Aurelia Fashions, Inc.

* * *

Redmond could not help it, but the fact that his friends had deserted him made him feel as if he had been stung all over by wasps...on the inside. He would have never believed that they would ever leave him to do battle with the wolf alone. As far as they were concerned, the wolf was so dangerous that it must not be approached. And yet they had left him in what they supposed were death's jaws. Soon he realised what the stinging feeling was. It was betrayal.

If only Elf were here, he thought, sliding on the stockings. (He had locked himself into a small room at the back of a bed and breakfast. Technically he shouldn't have been there, but no one had seen him enter. He had climbed up the drainpipe.) She would never desert me, even if a thousand wolves should threaten. But in a way, they are right. It is dangerous...a risk, at any rate, is involved. I'm glad she's not here, then. I would never want her in danger. That's the whole reason I made them swear not to tell Elf about the Masked Men...the only reason. (At this point he realised he had forgotten to "purchase" some shoes. Never mind. He would sort that problem out. Pulling the dress over his head, he could not help but feel ridiculous. But while at any other time he would have found the disguise hilarious, just then he was in no mood to laugh. His friends had deserted him; there was no one there with whom to share the joke. And so he had to keep it bottled up inside himself, locked away with stringent bitterness.)

The disguise was now complete: in the mirror conveniently located on the wall, he surveyed his reflection smugly. Nobody would have recognised him: he looked just like Little Red Riding Hood. Except, of course, he wasn't little. Oh well...an adolescent Red Riding Hood. Now, he thought, what am I going to do about these shoes, or lack thereof?_ Hmm..._ Holding his skirts up carefully, he tiptoed to the door, unlocked it, and carefully went down the corridor. Swerving to the right, he ducked into an empty room. Only momentarily empty, he decided; the guests must be out. And judging by the unmade beds and the whistling sound coming from the bathroom, the cleaner was in. Well, best to act quickly then.

After a lightning-speed ransacking of the wardrobe, he found exactly what he needed: two dark red ladies' shoes. What's more, they fit him perfectly (a match made in heaven). He was just pausing to admire them on his feet when -

"Hey! You!" exclaimed a rather large woman dressed in a bathrobe. So not the cleaner! - But the owner of the shoes. Her face was puffy and red; her eyebrows imperfectly tweezed."What do you think you're doing?"

"Flying," returned Redmond in a sickly falsetto; he just managed to blow her a kiss before skidding out the door and down the corridor. She was hard at his heels, though, and speaking of heels - he wasn't used to walking in them. The stairs were his undoing. He never realised a staircase could become such a rough-and-tumble slippery dip.

When he arrived at the bottom, he looked up to see the lady towering over him. And she really did look like a tower. A tower of jelly. He was just writing himself a eulogy when -

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." It was a man's voice, deeper and huskier than his own put-on voice. The proprietor of the inn was offering him a hand, helping him up. So this is what skirts are useful for...

"This floozy's stolen my shoes!" exclaimed the woman.

"Now now, madam, please calm yourself. I'm sure everything can be logically explained."

"I'll give you a logical explanation," puffed the woman. "She's stolen my shoes, that's what!"

"Yes, you already said that," said the man. "But perhaps you are simply mistaken." (Shooting a smile at Redmond.) "Perhaps you have a similar pair of shoes, and that is all."

"No, those are mine!" she insisted.

"There's a simple solution," said the man. "You could try them on - with the maiden's pardon, that is."

"Floozy!" exclaimed the woman.

"Language, madam," said the man, a warning note in his voice. She responded with a sulky silence. Kneeling down, he carefully, delicately removed one of Redmond's shoes. And wiggle, roar as she would, she could not get it onto her foot.

"I do not understand," she exclaimed, "I only bought these shoes last spring! They must have shrunk!"

The man raised his eyebrows at Redmond (who was by this time feeling quite disturbed); smiling, he said again: "As I said, some mistake. You thought these were your shoes, but they are in fact the young lady's."

"I can show you! I can show you! There is a distinct gap in my wardrobe, where my shoes ought to be!"

"Oh, my dear madam," he said patiently, "that proves nothing! It merely signifies that you must have left the particular pair of shoes you wanted at home."

At this, the woman stormed off, bathrobe and all.

"How funny some people are, don't you think?" said the man, once she was gone.

"Yes," said Redmond, straining for a high voice and giggling as best he could, "very funny."

"Now...you wouldn't happen to be free tonight?" continued the man. "We could go for a stroll along the river..."

"Not a chance, I'm afraid," said Redmond, hurrying away as quickly as his feet would carry him. "I'm already meeting someone!"

"Oh? Your sweetheart?"

"A wolf."

* * *

The forest was still and quiet. Night had fallen; a full moon glowed silver in the sky. The trees were tall and thin, the spiderwebs proliferate, the silence spine-tingling. On top of everything else, Redmond's feet were weary. He had already been walking for what seemed an eternity, and now he understood why Elf despised high heels. Maybe borrowing the shoes had not been such a good idea after all. Maybe he should have just stuck to his boots.

It was then that he heard it: a deep, chromatic howl, piercing the silence like a sword pierces the heart. Finally. Redmond tried to pretend to himself that he was happy, relieved; it would not be long now until he found the wolf, until he cornered it and set his net upon it. But instead of feeling pleased, he felt somehow tighter inside; his stomach let out a long moan, and his skin prickled. Maybe they were right, he thought suddenly; maybe they were right in leaving me. My recklessness deserves to be punished. Or I should simply run...

But no. That would not be honourable. Onwards and upwards. Don't lose heart. He sighed. And, repeating to himself the facts about the wolf and its behaviour he had internalised for his exams, he continued forwards, into the heart of the forest. The howls became louder and clearer as he went.

Soon he came to a clearing, in which there was a little cottage. There was a light inside. Gulping, he went up to it, knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a voice, hoarse, spine-chilling.

He entered. It would have been funny if it hadn't been horrifying. He had found the wolf: it was in the bed, wearing an old granny nightgown, an old granny nightcap and old granny glasses. He gulped.

"Oh, hello, Red," said the wolf, "I've been expecting you. Come in!"

Redmond obeyed. He didn't know what else to do. This wasn't in the plan...

"I've just been reading a book, dear, as I usually do before supper."

"Supper?" Redmond didn't even have to try for a falsetto. His voice had become naturally high-pitched.

"Yes...do you want to join me?"

He doesn't eat women, repeated Redmond to himself, he doesn't eat women, he doesn't eat women...It became like a mantra in his mind. He looked exactly like a girl, so technically he should be in no danger. And yet the legend of Red Riding Hood, the biology class facts about most wolves eating women only...it didn't fit, it just didn't fit. On the other hand, this was not most wolves. This was a wolf that talked.

"Uh...no thanks, Grandma."

"Tell me, Red, what is in your basket?"

A net, was Redmond's silent reply. "Just some...things I thought you might like, Grandma."

"Come, show me."

Redmond edged closer to the wolf. "Don't be scared," it cooed, "I don't bite!"

Actually, yes you do. Redmond stopped in his tracks. He had accused the others of cowardice, and yet what was this?

"You're here to kill me, aren't you," said the wolf softly, in a voice that was almost feminine.

"No," said Redmond firmly, new resolve mounting within him, "that's the last thing I'm here for."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't believe in cruelty to animals," explained Redmond. "I've been vegetarian ever since I was five. You can tear me to death all you like; but you can't make me hurt you."

The wolf looked surprised; its features were almost human. "Amazing," it murmured. "You're so different...first of all you're a girl, second of all you don't run away at the sight of me, and now this..."

"You're different, too," said Redmond, almost jokingly, "you haven't eaten me yet." But as soon as he said the words he regretted them. The wolf laughed, and that laugh was a good deal scarier than any howl he had ever heard.

"Those stories," said the wolf, "about me eating people...none of them are true."

"But the steward said - "

"The steward was lying," said the wolf firmly. "I haven't eaten a human in my life, nor do I plan to start now. They've invented all these stories about me, at the castle, to test the courage of the princes who come here...so many run away, even before coming to find me..."

"I don't understand," said Redmond.

"It would take an unusually courageous man to break the curse binding our princess," said the wolf. "That's why they make up the stories, that's why they pretend there have been wolf massacres. Even the villagers, townspeople believe it, and yet none of it is true. The royal family have no idea about the princess's whereabouts, she vanished on her fifteenth birthday due to a wicked spell cast on her by..."

"I'm sorry," said Redmond, "but I'm not interested in your princess, I'm interested in you. Where do you figure in this? As far as I can see, they've found you, made a slave of you, just to test the courage of the princes. Am I right?"

"In a way," said the wolf. "Come...come closer to me."

And Redmond went, leaving the basket on the floor behind him.

"Take the covers off," instructed the wolf.

Redmond obeyed; he moved the blankets, and to his amazement, he saw that the wolf was tied down to the bed.

"What an outrage!" he exclaimed, almost forgetting his falsetto.

"Would you mind unbinding me?" asked the wolf.

"With pleasure," said Redmond. And as he did so, the wolf said:

"It's a pity..."

"What's a pity?"

"It's a pity you're a girl. Only a man can save our princess."

"Oh, don't bother about the princess. I'm sure she's only got herself to blame for the curse."

The wolf now sat up in bed, shaking itself free of the clothes. All of a sudden there was a gust of wind, and all the candles went out. The pale moon hung in the window; the ghost of a whisper hung in the air. And then it all seemed to happen at once: the wolf howled loudly, springing towards Redmond, and a troop of masked boys burst into the room, surrounding the wolf, threatening it with scythes.

"What have you done to Redmond, you demented beast?"

"Don't you _dare_ attack this young lady!"

"Don't worry, miss, we've got you!"

When somebody relit the candles, Redmond disentangled himself from Jimmy's arms with difficulty and said: "What on earth is going on?"

While at the same time Jimmy was saying: "Good God, it's Red Riding Hood!"

And almost immediately afterwards Tom said (without pausing for breath): "We're saving you from a brutal death at the paws of a fearsome wolf, we, the Masked Men!"

"Where is Redmond?" demanded Daniel of the wolf. "If you tell us you've eaten him, it's certain death for you!"

The wolf only snarled.

"Maybe it's a rabid wolf," said Jimmy, "in which case it could hardly talk, right?"

"I was certain I heard voices, though," said Daniel.

"Alright you lot," said Redmond in his most commanding soprano, "I ask you again: What do you think you're doing?"

"And I tell you again," piped Tom, "we're saving you from a..."

"Let it be," said Jimmy. And turning to "Red Riding Hood": "We're searching for our friend, if you must know. We expected to find him here...we followed the sound of the howling. This friend of ours recklessly decided to take on the wolf by himself, and now I'm afraid..." He bit his lip anxiously. "I'm afraid we're too late," he said, more quietly.

"Oh? And why didn't you just let this friend of yours alone, if what he was doing was dangerous?" Red Riding Hood's sarcasm stung.

"We didn't," said Daniel, "we couldn't just leave him when we knew he was putting himself into danger. We returned to find him almost as soon as he left us, but we lost him..."

"...so we went into the forest, where we have been searching ever since."

"That's quite admirable of you," said Redmond, eyebrows raised. "To care for your friend so much that you lose him and then want to find him again."

"We didn't mean to lose him," said Jimmy. "His pride is incredible; we knew he must not know we were following him. But things didn't work out..."

"And now the wolf's gone and eaten him," snarled Daniel. "I suggest the traditional method: we slice the stomach open."

"Hold on," said Redmond. "This wolf doesn't eat humans. It told me so itself."

"It _can_ talk!" squeaked Tom.

"And you actually believed it?" Jimmy smirked, putting his arm around "Riding Hood". "If it hadn't been for us, my dear, you would have been dead meat by now."

"As a matter of fact," said "Riding Hood", straightening up and pointedly taking Jimmy's hand and putting it back where it belonged, "the wolf doesn't eat young ladies." - Poutingly - "I thought you knew?"

"This is true," said the wolf, "I don't eat young ladies."

"It _can_ talk!" repeated Daniel. "I told you so! Didn't I tell you so?"

"That's 'she', thank you," said the wolf, wincing.

"She?" A thought, like a lightning bolt, in Redmond's mind. "I wonder..."

And the Masked Men watched in horror as Red Riding Hood carefully pushed away the scythes and, having approached the wolf, planted a small kiss on her forehead.

The result was almost instantaneous. Within moments, the wolf baring its teeth had been replaced by a smiling girl dressed in a fur coat.

"My...God..." exclaimed Jimmy.

"'The spell will fade only when a young man of exceptional courage, kindness and compassion frees you and kisses you,'" murmured the girl. "I don't understand..."

"Some spell if it can be tricked into accepting a female rescuer," said Tom, blinking like an owl struck by sunlight. "I mean, nobody would mistake Red Riding Hood here for a 'young man'...I mean, come _on_..."

"You're the princess, aren't you," said Red Riding Hood, her cherry lips beaming. "Princess Berenice."

"Yes...how did you guess?" asked Berenice.

"Well...you know...a talking wolf, a cursed princess...I just put two and two together really." Red shrugged.

"Blimey," said Daniel.

"Seven years I have been imrprisoned in the form of a wolf," breathed Berenice, "without being able to tell my parents who I was..."

"Why?" asked Tom.

"Because then I would have had to stay a wolf forever."

"Ironic, really," said Red Riding Hood, "and very sad that your parents used you as part of their plan to find a courageous prince..."

"Yes," said Berenice, "they must never find out."

"Wait a minute," said Jimmy. "If you're really a charming young lady, and we're the only ones in the cottage...where on earth is Redmond?"

"Actually," said Red Riding Hood, "I have a confession to make about this Redmond fellow of yours..."

"You saw him?" pressed Daniel.

"Even if it is the worst," said Jimmy gravely, "you must tell us. We need to know."

"There is no easy way to tell you," said Red Riding Hood, pouting once more. "I...saw him earlier on today in a store in Berren."

"In a store? What was he doing?"

"Shopping."

"Wait," interrupted Daniel, "how does she know it was Redmond?"

"Point taken," said Red Riding Hood, "but this will become evident in due course. Afterwards I saw him in a bed and breakfast on the main street...he got in trouble there with a lady who accused him of stealing her shoes."

"I'm sorry but this is going nowhere," said Jimmy. "Describe Redmond to us, so we know we are really talking about the same person. This Redmond of yours may be some local Berovian chap..."

"I don't think so," said Red Riding Hood, smiling. "Let's see, a description...five foot seven, rusty-coloured hair, handsome features, blue-grey eyes, a propensity to drag his friends into scrapes that may or may not be dangerous, and having done so getting upset at them when they refuse to go through with his hare-brained schemes; finally," - this an octave lower - "a tendency towards making himself ridiculous when apologising."

"_Red_?" chorused the Masked Men as one.

"I thought you'd never guess." Redmond grinned.

"Wait a minute," said Berenice, "so...you're...a boy."

"That's about the size of it," said Redmond, "yes."

"Well." Berenice beamed. "That makes _much_ more sense."

"B-b-but..." stammered Tom, "it _can't_ be Redmond...I mean...it doesn't _look_ like..."

"Never," said Redmond, "_ever_ judge a book by its cover."

"Wise words from the future king of Berovia," said Berenice.

"King - Berovia? I'm sorry, I..." began Redmond.

"Well, that is why you came here, isn't it?" asked Berenice, looking a bit perplexed. "You wanted my hand in marriage."

Jimmy coughed.

"I'm afraid it's more mercenary than that," he said. "You see, there's this very special cello, called the Stracciatella..."

* * *

"And so it was," finished Damascus, "that the Masked Men's first adventure ended. Redmond, being fifteen, was too young to marry Berenice anyway, and she was so grateful to him for rescuing her that she didn't mind his refusal. The group was entertained for the rest of the weekend at the Berovian court, and they were sent home carting a chest of golden ducats behind them and in possession of a note explaining their absence to their headmaster (it would probably come in handy). Tom was happy because he could finally purchase his bicycle; Daniel was happy because he could finally get the pearl necklace; Jimmy was happy because he was able to buy himself a telescope; and Redmond was happy because everyone else was happy. He had delayed the purchase of his cello, though he would not explain why.

"One day, Mrs McGinty was surprised to see a new delivery of white cotton dresses, red cloaks and brown wigs, with a small note attached: 'Riding Hood Couture: compliments of the Masked Men.' As to the lady in the hotel, after finally putting through the Stolen Articles Form to the authorities controlling hotels and inns throughout the country, she marched the officers into her room only to find her favourite red pair of shoes had inexplicably reappeared. Equally inexplicable was the fact that they still would not fit."

Damascus rolled over. "Did you like it, Vera? _Vera_!"

But Verity made no reply. She was already fast asleep.


End file.
